Resident Evil: Interludes: Shades of Gray
by Feriku
Summary: Set directly in between my fanfictions RE6 and RE7, the world is in chaos following the attacks led by Alex Wesker and the Organization. In the midst of treachery and terror, several factions set plans into motion.
1. Chapter 1: Recruited

**Resident Evil: Interludes**

**Shades of Gray**

Chapter 1: Recruited

Her heart was pounding as she entered the hospital. It was clearly understaffed, stress and fear were palpable in the air, and she wasn't even supposed to be there. She had been reluctant enough to even make the trip, worried about what they wanted to ask her. That worry had escalated into outright panic when she arrived at Chris's house to find only rubble, debris, and a police cordon. The worst part had been that even most of the police were dead, some with their throats ripped out and others with their skulls smashed in, blood and gore staining the street and making her gag in horror. The only living police officers said they had arrived after the attack, and they had only been able to tell her that the survivors had been rushed to the hospital. They had seemed panicked, frantically talking on CB radios to other units in an attempt to coordinate their efforts across the town; from what she had overheard before leaving, they were intent on tracking down a blonde woman.

_I left to avoid all this. I should leave now, while I still have a chance._

"I'm looking for Chris Redfield," she said uncertainly to the receptionist.

"Mr. Redfield was discharged this morning." After a moment, the haggard-looking woman added, "He's still in the building, though, as far as I know."

_But if Chris was discharged…_ She started to ask who had been just brought in from his house, when a voice cried, "Rebecca?"

Turning, she saw Barry Burton running towards her to pull her into a crushing hug. Dressed casually and beaming, he hadn't changed a bit. She smiled in spite of the situation. She hadn't seen him since the funeral when they thought Jill was dead, and that had been her first visit in many years. "It's good to see you, too, Barry."

"I'm glad you decided to help us; we really need you."

She pulled away from him. "Barry, all I agreed to was to come here. I left all those years ago because I wanted to forget. I'm not cut out for fighting the Umbrellas of the world."

"But Rebecca—" He sighed and said, "Come with me."

He led her back towards the hospital rooms, and she followed despite a sinking feeling. She had been right—they wanted to pull her into the fight again. She knew the situation was bad; she had watched the news as the Organization's attacks devastated the world and virtually destroyed the B.S.A.A., terrified that she would hear her friends' names among the dead. She had worried about Billy Coen, too, that they might somehow find him. And as her old nightmares had resurfaced, she had known that she didn't want to get involved.

She suddenly realized they were heading towards intensive care and stopped worrying about herself. "Barry, what happened?" she asked, all of the worst possibilities running through her mind. "Who's in ICU?"

"Jill and Claire," he said, looking grim. "And Steve Burnside's dead again."

"How—what—what's going on?" she stammered, trying to get a hold on the bombshells he had just thrown. Jill and Claire had been the ones rushed in? And Claire's friend who had died years ago had died _again_? Not for the first time, she wished she had stayed in closer contact with them despite her worries.

"You can visit Jill," Barry said, "although she's probably still out. Claire isn't allowed visitors yet except for immediate family, because she took a bad blow to the head and needed emergency surgery—they say she'll be fine, though," he added quickly at her alarmed look. "In fact, she was awake long enough to tell Chris…" He looked down at the ground.

"Tell him what?" she asked, starting to feel desperate. "Barry, I don't know anything about what's going on here!"

Leon walked into the hallway, dressed in black, with a combat vest over his shirt, a large pack across his shoulders, a satchel at his side, and multiple guns strapped to his back and waist. Her first thought was to wonder how things had gotten so bad that he was allowed to carry that much weaponry in a hospital, and her second thought was to wonder why he looked almost like he was going to war. He was checking over his equipment.

Closely following him was Chris. Also toting guns and glaring darkly at nothing in particular, he snapped into a radio, "This is a matter of life and death! I need at least a _vague_ direction to go on!"

"Chris!" Barry shouted. "Look who's here!"

"Rebecca?" He hurried over, clipping the radio to his belt. "I'm so glad you came…but I need to be leaving."

Barry caught his arm. "You can't just head off in a random direction, Chris."

"I can't just sit here and wait, either!"

"Chris," Leon said, walking over to join them, "do we still want Rebecca to be our spy? Now that Alex knows about her, she might tell the Organization."

"Wait a minute!" she interrupted, staring at the three of them. This was too much all at once. She felt like she was drowning in the waves of random statements being thrown at her. "I didn't agree to do anything! I just want to have a normal life, okay?"

Chris looked strained. "Rebecca, we need you. Because you left when you did, it looks like the Organization lost track of you. We need someone we can trust that they don't know about." He sighed. "Alex knows about you, but I'm not entirely convinced she won't let us destroy the Organization. She might tell them, but she might not. That means you're still our best chance! Please, Rebecca! Please."

"Who's Alex?" she asked, both because she didn't remember hearing the name on the news and because she didn't want to answer his unspoken question. Chris was a friend. She still had many good memories of working with him in S.T.A.R.S. She couldn't turn him down when he was pleading with her—but she didn't want to do this.

"A psychopath and a traitor!" Barry growled.

"Alex is—" Chris's radio crackled, and he grabbed it. "Yes?"

"Part of our perimeter was broken through, north along the main road leading to the highway." The voice on the other end of the radio sounded distraught. "The injuries match those from the attack site."

"I'm on it," he said, running out of the hallway with only a shouted, "Please, Rebecca!" as a farewell.

"You aren't going with him?" she asked Leon. She didn't know him as well, having only met him a couple of times. From what she understood, he was working for the government now.

He shook his head, but he looked conflicted. "I've been ordered to stay here and wait for the intel I need to infiltrate Alex's castle."

"But who _is_ he?"

"She," Barry corrected. He sighed. "I think I'll go see if Jill is awake, tell her what's going on."

Rebecca watched him walk away, feeling upset and confused. Everyone was in a state of panic, and the Organization and this Alex woman were at fault. She didn't understand why she had never heard of her, if she was this deeply involved with the attacks.

"It's been a mess around here today," Leon said. He rubbed his head. "As far as I can understand, Alex is the only survivor of a secret project called Project W. Her full name is Alex Wesker, and she joined the B.S.A.A. calling herself Kirsty Anderson."

"Alex _Wesker_?" she interrupted, feeling sick. Even with the number of years that had passed since the mansion incident, there were times when she still couldn't believe their captain had betrayed them.

"Yeah." He held his hands out and shrugged. "Project W. Chris really wasn't up to explaining. Now the government is on the job; as soon as their spies locate her castle, they're sending me in to derail her operations and try to kill her." He sighed. "So we're a little short-staffed right now. That's why we want you to work on the Organization."

"I don't understand," she said. Alex's surname kept repeating itself in her ears. After evading the past for so long, it had finally caught up with her. She had to get out of here—but what if ignoring this meant her friends died? _I'm a civilian now. I can't _do_ this._ She struggled to piece together what was going on. "If Chris is going after Alex now, why didn't you go with him? You could take her out more easily together!"

He closed his eyes. "That's the second thing I'm waiting on. Supposedly, Alex is immortal. We don't have a plan to kill her yet."

"Then what is Chris doing?"

"Alex captured Sheva. Chris just wants to bring her back alive."

She had never met Sheva, but now she understood why Chris had seemed so upset. His sister and partner hospitalized, another friend kidnapped by the person responsible… The B.S.A.A. was gone; she knew he must feel like the odds against them were insurmountable. Rebecca sighed. "You really need my help, don't you?"

"Yes."

"What do I have to do?"

"We can put you in a position where you can work your way into the Organization. You'll need an alias and a way of contacting us to get you out. All we want you to do is find concrete proof that the Organization is or _isn't_ G.P.C."

"The Global Pharmaceutical Consortium? They're the Organization?"

"It sure looks like it." He grimaced. "But most of our information came from Alex."

She took a deep breath. "Just get in, get the proof, and get out. No fighting, no outbreaks, no B.O.W. attacks?"

"That's the plan."

"I'll do it."

* * *

_Author's note: Hello again, everyone! First, no, this is not _the_ sequel I spoke of when I finished my Resident Evil 6, although clearly it is_ a_ sequel_._ This is a short "bridge" story that will connect the two longer stories and save all of you from having to endure tedious exposition at the start of RE7. RE7 itself looks like it's going to be long and complex enough as it is. Second, you should be aware that as of chapter 2, Revelations will be retconned into this continuity. You have been warned! :)_


	2. Chapter 2: Two Hours Earlier

Chapter 2: Two Hours Earlier

"We have to act," Chris said, pacing back and forth in the hospital room. "We can't just sit and wait for them to do something else; we need to infiltrate the Organization and stop them!"

Sheva looked around at the others. They had met in Leon's room, as he was the only one still ordered to remain in bed. The rest of them had finally been discharged. From the look on his face, he wasn't going to stand for it much longer; he had already strongly implied that when the three of them left the hospital, he would be accompanying them.

"It's simple, then," Barry said from the seat beside her. "As soon as the others come for their visit, we'll look at that journal that Claire found and decide what to do."

"It's not that simple," Leon said. "Remember the way the Organization targeted everyone connected to Umbrella? Do you _really_ think they can't recognize every one of us?"

_Especially with a traitor in the B.S.A.A._ She hoped that Josh and the others were all right. Having cut contact with them entirely, she had no way of knowing if the Organization was still tailing them, or if they were finally safe.

Chris nodded. "I've been thinking about that, and I—" He cut off sharply at the sound of footsteps clattering down the hallway.

"Hi!" Kirsty Anderson trotted into the room, beaming. Wearing a blue blouse and a long white skirt, she was out of breath and seemed a little disarrayed. She reached up to push some loose hair out of her face and sat in one of the vacant seats. She glanced up at the clock on the wall. "The others will be here any minute."

"All right," Chris said. "Maybe I should wait, then."

She nearly jumped out of her seat to lean towards him. "Wait for what? What did I miss?"

"We were discussing how to infiltrate the Organization," Sheva said, studying her. She still wasn't sure what to make of Kirsty. At times naïve and at other times vengeful, the data analyst sent to help them had been the one to point them towards G.P.C. as the true identity of the mysterious agency. So far, her accusation seemed accurate, although they still needed proof.

"Really?" she gasped. She cocked her head. "Um…who's going to be the spy? I mean, don't they know us all?"

Chris sighed. "That's what I was just getting to, but if the others are on their way…"

He trailed off just as Sheva's cell phone started ringing. She took it out, thinking that it might be Jill or one of the others saying that they had been delayed, but she didn't recognize the number. She answered it. "Hello?"

"Hello?" an accented voice asked on the other end. "Is Chris Redfield there? This is Parker Luciani."

She put her hand over the phone and looked up. "Chris, it's Parker." She had never met him, but she had heard his name before and knew that he was a B.S.A.A. agent who had worked with Chris and Jill in the past. He had survived the attacks on the B.S.A.A., having been away from headquarters at the time.

Chris nodded and held his hand out for the phone. She turned it over to him, and he asked, "Parker? How did it go? You did? Just a minute, let me put you on speaker." He fiddled with the buttons on the side of the phone, and Sheva directed him to the right one. The other three were watching intently, with Kirsty looking like she might fall off the edge of her seat.

Parker's voice came from the speakers a second later. "Chris wants you all to know that I'm here now with Rebecca. The attacks didn't get her, didn't even come close to her."

"Which means the Organization has no idea who she is," Chris finished with a smile.

"Just a minute, I'll put her on."

Sheva had never met Rebecca Chambers, but she knew who she was. She also knew that the girl had cut ties with her friends and gone away to live a normal life as a civilian. If Chris's plan was to get her to be their spy, she wasn't sure it would work. Then again, they were running out of options.

"Who's Rebecca?" Kirsty whispered.

"She was a member of S.T.A.R.S. with us!" Barry cried, looking delighted. "Is she going to join our team? That'll be great; the whole gang will be back together again!" His smile faded slightly. "Well, except the ones who died…"

"You can watch your videos together!"

"That didn't go so well the last time…"

"Hi?" Rebecca's voice came from the speakers. She sounded nervous.

There was a chorus of hellos as everyone in the room greeted her, with Kirsty sounding especially exuberant for someone talking to the girl for the first time.

Chris cut straight to the point. "Rebecca, you know the town where I live now, right? Can you come out here? We really need to talk to you."

Silence followed his answer. Finally, she asked tentatively, "Is that the reason you sent Parker after me?"

He started to say something, looking pained, but Leon interrupted, "We thought you would be in danger from the Organization. You must have heard about the attacks. We didn't think they'd be above going after anyone involved with the incidents, even if it was just to get at us."

"Really?"

"Everyone is in danger," Chris said. "They aren't holding back when it comes to these attacks. Please, just come here, Rebecca."

Another long silence followed, and Sheva thought that it was probably a lost cause. If she didn't want to help them, she just wouldn't come. As much as they needed help, Chris wouldn't have one of their own allies abducted. However, when Rebecca finally spoke again, it wasn't what Sheva had expected to hear.

"Everyone involved is in danger? You think they'd go after anyone who challenged Umbrella during the outbreaks, even someone who hasn't fought them since?"

Chris frowned. "What's wrong, Rebecca? If they haven't gotten to you yet, they probably aren't going to."

_Unless they're playing more games with us,_ Sheva couldn't help but think, considering all of the strange things the Organization had already done.

"No, that's not…" Rebecca's voice was hesitant. "There's someone else… But that's ridiculous; they couldn't have a way of finding out…"

"Rebecca, I have no idea what you're talking about," Chris admitted.

"Why don't you tell us?" Kirsty suggested, staring at the phone with an odd intensity, lips parted slightly.

"No, I… No." The voice on the other end of the phone was suddenly firm.

Leon looked concerned. "If you know something we should know—"

"I'll come! I can be at your house in a couple of hours, Chris."

The abrupt acceptance seemed suspiciously like avoidance of the new topic to Sheva, but Chris looked like he didn't want to argue the point and risk her not coming. He wrapped up the conversation—with Barry shouting his farewell—and then ended the call, handing the phone back to Sheva.

"You might not be able to persuade her," she said, putting it in her pocket.

"We have to try."

Sounds suddenly met their ears, noises from a flurry of activity that had begun outside of the room. Someone was shouting for a doctor to hurry, and people were running down the hall. A man raced past the doorway and then doubled back, sticking his head into the room.

"You're Chris Redfield, aren't you?"

"Yes." He looked alarmed. "Why? What's going on?"

"It's your sister! And your partner, Jill Valentine! They were attacked!"

"_What?_" Chris raced out of the room, closely followed by Barry. Leon leaped out of his bed—he no longer was wired to set off alarms when he moved—and followed them. Sheva started after them, wondering what this meant. If they had been attacked, did that mean that Steve Burnside was the traitor? He certainly had been acting strangely. None of the attacks so far had been fatal, and she hoped this wouldn't be the exception. Claire and Jill had to be okay.

A hand closed around her arm, pulling her back into the room with surprising force. She looked at Kirsty. "What is it?"

"If they were attacked—" she began, looking hesitant.

"Yes, I know," Sheva said grimly, "it must have been Steve."

"No!" She shook her head furiously, whipping her braids back and forth. "Look, as I was coming here, I passed a man on the road. I didn't think anything of it until just now, but he looked like…well…_him_!"

"Wesker?" she asked, shocked. Even he couldn't have survived the battle on the volcano.

Kirsty closed her eyes and nodded. "Yes! It must have been him! Come on, we've got to go!"

"Go where?"

"To save Steve!"

"What?" She held up her hands. "Slow down, Kirsty. You're getting ahead of yourself. How would we even find him, and how do you know he has Steve? What if Steve is—" _Dead again._ She didn't finish the sentence. "You need to tell Chris what you saw." She pulled her arm free and hurried towards the door, whirling around when a wordless snarl came from Kirsty.

"You're right. I've had enough of this!" Her dark eyes suddenly flashed red, and Sheva saw in the burst of light that she was wearing contacts.

A million thoughts raced through her mind, and she turned to run for the door. The other woman crashed into her and slammed her to the ground with strength she hadn't faced since fighting Wesker. Sheva tried to get up but was pinned down; she opened her mouth to shout for help and a fist connected squarely with her skull. Darkness pulled her under.

xXx

Chris paced back and forth in the hallway near ICU, ignoring everyone who tried to catch his eye. Claire was unconscious and in critical condition; the doctors were doing their best for her. Jill was sleeping peacefully at last, after he had stayed with her for as long as he could. He had been pacing ever since, waiting for news. They were both going to be fine. He kept telling himself that.

The police had come, with a report that an explosion had leveled his house and the surrounding area, and that two bodies had been found in the wreckage.

_They found _two_ bodies?_

One was almost certainly Steve, but no one else should have been there. Kirsty had been at the hospital, and Rebecca couldn't have made it that quickly. Had the Organization launched another suicide attack?

Then there were the other bodies. It seemed that the security alarms had gone off some time earlier, but the investigators initially sent in by the police had been summarily slaughtered. The description of how they had been killed made him think it was either one of two things—either a B.O.W. was on the loose, rampaging through the town now, or Dr. Jones's murderer had struck again.

_Is it Wesker?_ he thought darkly. _Is it _a_ Wesker?_

"Mr. Redfield."

He turned, recognizing the voice as belonging to one of the doctors. The older man looked worn out.

"Your sister is awake; she's calling for you."

He hurried into the room, pushing past the doctors and nurses still there so he could reach Claire's side. Wired up to IVs and monitors and suspended in casts due to her broken bones, she was looking around the room frantically.

"Claire!" He put his hand over hers, babbling from relief at seeing her conscious. "I'm so glad you're all right. You're going to be fine and Jill's going to be fine; everyone's going to be fine."

"Steve's dead," she whispered.

He closed his eyes, remembering the odd relationship that had been forming between Claire and Steve. He had died once already and then miraculously returned. This had to be especially hard on her. "I know. I'm sorry."

"Kirsty…"

"She wasn't in the explosion," he said, not sure why she would be asking about her. "I think she's still here in the hospital."

"_No!_" Claire winced, as if her outburst had taken too much out of her. A monitor started beeping, and Chris heard footsteps hurrying towards them. "Kirsty did it! She's…Alex Wesker…" She slumped backwards, looking exhausted. "And we couldn't hurt her; she's immortal," she whispered.

"Excuse me, Mr. Redfield."

He let the doctors move past him again, standing there in a daze. Kirsty was _who_? He remembered the name "Alex Wesker" from the files they had found at the Spencer Estate. He had considered that one of the Wesker Children could be behind the attacks. But he had assumed that if it was Alex, he would be someone they didn't know. Apparently he wasn't even a _he_. And did Claire really mean that the supposed report about Alex discovering immortality was _true_?

The world started moving again as he realized this meant they were in a lot of danger. He bolted from the room and raced down the hall, trying to remember where he had last seen the others. He knew at least Barry had followed him out of the hospital room when they heard the news, and Leon had tried to speak to him in the hall. He ran into the waiting room.

"Chris!" Leon said, getting up from where he was sitting. "What's wrong?"

"Alex is the attacker. I mean, Kirsty is! Where is she?"

His eyes widened. "What? Kirsty?"

Chris resisted the urge to grab him by the shoulders and shake him. "Where is she?"

"I don't know; I haven't seen her since we left the room!"

He nodded and then ran towards the other door, where he could make his way to the regular rooms like the one Leon had been in. Partway there, he collided with Barry.

"If you see Kirsty, don't trust her; she's Alex Wesker," he shouted over his shoulder as he moved to the side and kept running, "and if you see Sheva, be sure to tell her, too!"

When he made it to the room, it was empty. He shook his head, frustrated. It had been too good to hope she was still here. She had to have known that once Jill and Claire arrived at the hospital, it was only a matter of time before her secret was out. If she really couldn't be killed, he couldn't help but wonder why she hadn't remained behind to just murder them all.

A red streak caught his eye, and he knelt, heart pounding. There was blood on the floor, near the doorway. He knew it hadn't been there before.

"Chris!"

He got up and turned to see both Leon and Barry in the doorway.

"We can't find Sheva anywhere," Leon said.

He clenched his fists. _Alex…_ "Come on. We have to move fast."


	3. Chapter 3: Alex Wesker

Chapter 3: Alex Wesker

Sheva regained consciousness screaming as pain lanced through her legs.

"Good, you're awake," a cold voice greeted her. With the unfamiliar tone, it was just barely recognizable as Kirsty's. "My, when you have an idea, you stick to it, don't you? I was hoping I could trace your dear Josh from your phone. Pity, but I'll find a use for it anyway, I'm sure."

She opened her eyes slowly, gritting her teeth to keep from crying out again. The room they were in was small and plain, completely bare of anything that might have told her where she was. The floor and walls were cold and gray. Her hands were bound behind her tight enough to make her wrists ache, and when she dared to look down, she saw that her legs were twisted and bent at odd angles. She closed her eyes again as a wave of dizziness accompanied the pain.

"This really hasn't been going as planned, so I wasn't taking any chances. Broken legs do wonders to cut down on escapes, you know."

When the dizziness had passed, she opened her eyes again and focused on the woman standing across from her. Kirsty's clothes were splattered with blood, as was her hair, which was now falling out of its arrangement. Her face was impassive, but her eyes were strikingly different than they had been before, now golden and slit-pupiled. Despite being the same person, her eyes and bearing combined made her almost resemble Albert Wesker more than the woman Sheva had known as Kirsty Anderson.

"You're the traitor," she groaned, leaning her head back against the wall and trying to ignore the pain.

"Of course. Why _ever_ did you trust me?" She laughed. "Poor little Sheva, surviving the mess in Africa only to stupidly fall into the hands of Alex Wesker. Cheer up, dear, you might get a chance to live in my new world!"

_Alex Wesker?_ "Is this revenge?"

Alex's eyes flashed red. "Oh, what I'll do to the next person who asks me that…" She folded her arms, and a smile appeared slowly on her face. "Enough about me. Let's talk about you. How does it feel to be helpless?" Stepping towards her casually, she snapped her foot up and kicked her in the stomach.

Sheva doubled over, fighting to breathe. She strained to free her hands, but the ropes cut into her wrists and wouldn't break. She tried to sit up so she could face Alex again, but it was difficult to move. Aware for the first time since waking up of an ache in the back of her head from when Alex had knocked her out, she focused on breathing normally. A hand gripped her hair and yanked her into a sitting position again, smacking her head against the wall in the process.

"Poor, helpless little Sheva," Alex taunted, letting go of her. She stepped back and smirked, shaking her head. "Is this a hero of the B.S.A.A.? Standards weren't very high, now were they?"

She didn't have the energy to respond to the insult. "Why are you doing this?" she groaned.

Alex spread out her arms and smiled. "Merely passing the time until your escort arrives. I have much work to do."

"Then go do your work."

She raised her arm, and Sheva flinched involuntarily. No blow came, and Alex starting laughing. "Oh, but this is much more enjoyable."

"Go to hell," Sheva growled, trying to work out in her mind how long it would be before someone would find her. Their absence would be noticed, but she had no idea how long she had been out for or where Alex had taken her. Her best chance of escape would come once she had been turned over to the "escort," but with her legs broken, she didn't know what she could even do then.

"Death is not something I plan to experience…ever."

She ignored her and wondered how badly Claire and Jill had been hurt. If they had seen their attacker, there was a chance they could warn the others quickly. Then someone could try to find her. The blood on Alex's clothes…she must have left bodies behind; there had to be signs of her passing. She felt sick at the thought.

"I know what you're thinking. You're thinking that someone is going to rescue you." Alex crouched, bringing her face so close that Sheva could feel her breath. "You want to say 'You won't get away with this!' You think your old partner Chris will surely come to find you."

Sheva pulled away ineffectually.

"Don't you remember? His sister and partner are on the brink of death. Why would he abandon them just to come for you?" Alex smiled and her eyes glittered. "I know, 'But I'm his partner, too!' you're thinking. Oh, he worked with you, I'll grant you that. It was necessary for the mission. But you were never Jill. You could never _be_ Jill."

She closed her eyes so she wouldn't have to see that disturbing gaze and tried to ignore her words. There had indeed been times in Kijuju when she had felt like Chris considered her second-best, that he would never consider her his partner the way Jill had been his partner. But she was over that. They had been partners, and after that, they had been a team.

"Second-rate. He'll never come, not for_ you_." Her voice became strangely soft. "Oh, but hold onto your hope. Keep telling yourself he's on his way. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have work to do."

Sheva sensed her movement and opened her eyes. Alex had stood up and was looking down at her with a smile so bright, it would not have looked out of place on her alias Kirsty. Her foot lashed out again, connecting with Sheva's legs. She couldn't hold back the scream this time as the bones cracked again and pain surged through her.

"You won't be going anywhere."

xXx

Chris regarded the body on the ground grimly. This one was a woman, just a civilian from the looks of her clothes. The T-shirt and jeans were now splattered with crimson stains that came from the wound in her stomach where a hole had been punched in her. Her face was twisted in a grimace of shock and pain. He was a long way from where he had started, following a blood trail that led north. The relentless pace he had set was taking its toll on him, but every time he had started to tire, he had encountered another body. Alex's list of slaughtered innocents had grown considerably since she left the hospital.

_I will not let Sheva join that list._

In a way, he was glad for the exertion caused by this journey. It kept him from dwelling on everything that had happened—Claire and Jill, left back at the hospital; Rebecca, dragged into a dangerous situation when she only wanted to live in peace; Sheva, her chances of survival diminishing with every minute; and all the people Alex had killed this day, people he should have been able to save.

Every time he thought back to Kirsty Anderson, he berated himself for not realizing sooner what was going on. He and Jill—_she's going to recover_—had discussed the possibility of the Wesker Children. He kept feeling déjà vu; had some part of him recognized that there was a successor to Wesker in their midst, waiting for her chance to bring her treachery to fruition? Kirsty hadn't seemed right—he should have seen the warning signs. He should have done something to prevent this.

Chris turned away from the body and took a moment to gather his thoughts. Wallowing in guilt wouldn't save any lives.

"I thought I might find you here."

He whirled around at the woman's voice, whipping out his machine gun as he moved. He leveled it at the woman he recognized at once as Kirsty Anderson, though with her inhuman eyes and the blood splatters covering her clothing, he knew he would never again be able to think of her as anything other than Alex Wesker. Her smile could have been called pleasant in another context.

"You were remarkably easy to sneak up on, Chris. This poor corpse captured your full attention, I see."

"Enough!" He tightened his fingers around the trigger. "Where's Sheva?"

She laughed. "You're going to shoot me? That's the best you could come up with?" She shook her head. "Really, I'm tempted to think this is a complicated psychological trick to make me doubt the Progenitor virus." She raised her eyebrows at him and spread out her arms. "But then, I don't think you're smart enough for that."

"And insults are the best _you_ could come up with?"

"Just dreaming of the things I will do to you."

"So it's me you wanted?" he demanded. He noticed her eyebrows fly up but pressed on, "Then take me and let Sheva go! If it's revenge you're after—"

Alex moved so quickly he had no time to react, reaching him in a split second with her eyes flaring red. One fist slammed upwards into his chin, snapping his head back, and the other smashed into his stomach. He staggered backwards, doubled over, half-amazed that she hadn't done lethal damage, and then her foot swung in an arc to knock his feet out from under him. He hit the ground and managed to raise his gun, shooting wildly as she stalked towards him.

She dodged some of the bullets, but couldn't be bothered to avoid all of them. The ones that hit her didn't seem to affect her at all. She grabbed the gun and tore it from his hands. He rolled out of the way, trying to get to his feet. She caught him from behind, one arm going around his neck and pinning him against her and the other trapping his arms. He struggled, but it was like fighting steel bands.

"We don't have to be enemies, Chris," she hissed in his ear, her breath hot against his skin. "You did me a great favor in Kijuju, after all." She pressed her arm harder against his throat, causing him to choke. "Care to live in my new world?"

"You're as nuts as he was," he gasped out, and her grip tightened further, making his vision go black. A jolt of panic struck him, and he started to fight with renewed effort.

Laughing, Alex released him and knocked him away from her.

Chris didn't wait for his vision to return entirely. Still trying to regain his balance, he grabbed at the rocket launcher he had strapped to his back.

"Poor Chris thinks he's invincible… Bigger threat? Just use a bigger gun."

Ignoring her taunts, he aimed it at her and fired. She gave the missile a look that reflected nothing more than boredom and stepped out of the way.

"Brilliant, Chris; I hope it hits some innocent civilians out that way." She laughed. "I am now more convinced than ever that Spencer was an idiot."

He glared at her, clenching his fists. "That doesn't even make any sense!" he shouted, trying to distract her so he could come up with a plan to actually take her down or at least get her to reveal where Sheva was. "Don't you have more important things to do than waste your time with me?"

"I do have some business to take care of," she said with a smile. She lunged towards him, but this time he was alert, ready for her sudden movements. He swung the rocket launcher like a club, striking her—or rather, the space where she used to be. "Too easy," she mocked, now behind him, her hand striking the back of his neck with just enough force to knock him to the ground.

Chris groaned, his body wanting to just collapse on the ground. But he couldn't do that. He reminded himself of what was at stake and rolled over just as Alex's foot stomped into the ground where he had been. He started to sit up, but her other foot caught him in the chin. His head jerked back and smashed against the ground. He forced himself to move, but a foot landed on his chest and pinned him in place.

His opened his eyes through a haze of anger and pain and saw Alex crouching to look at his face, adjusting her position to hold him down with her hands as well. He had the sickening feeling that she could have killed him at least ten times during their encounter, and now she had him trapped.

"Perhaps he was playing games," she said, staring at him with a distant look. "I prefer to perform great productions…"

"What is it you want from me?" he demanded. His mind was racing again. Maybe Sheva could still get away. Maybe if he kept Alex talking, he could buy her enough time.

"I'm going to kill Sheva Alomar, you know," she whispered. "I'll kill her slowly, while you're trapped and helpless. I'll make her scream for mercy, and you'll be able to do nothing but watch. Then again, how do you know it isn't happening now, as we speak? My men, coming with their knives…perhaps rats… Her blood will be on _your_ hands, Chris Redfield, because you failed. You _failed_ someone who needed you, someone who once was your partner. And she'll never see you; she'll die in despair, thinking that you never cared enough to come for her."

_Sheva!_ He strained to pull away, thinking that if he could only get away for a second, he might be able to run. She had been going north. He might make it. _She's just screwing with my mind; Sheva can't be dead already!_

Alex leaned over him until her face was all he could see. "But I won't kill you for your failure. No, I think next I'll go after…your sister." She smiled, widening her eyes. "Have you ever heard of the Judas Cradle? It's an intriguing device. I'll give you a hint—Claire will die in agony and humiliation, wondering why her brother couldn't save her. Why couldn't he? Could brave, strong Chris _really_ have failed so badly?"

Chris yelled wordlessly, trying with all his might to attack her. He managed to get one arm free and swung his fist at her face. His blow connected, sending shockwaves through his arm, and then she grabbed his hand and bent it backwards until his wrist snapped. He cried out, hating her and her unnatural strength.

The air whipped around them wildly, throwing dust into his eyes. He blinked rapidly, blinded, and Alex turned her head towards the sky. "A helicopter is hovering above us. Friends come to rescue you? I'll gladly welcome them and add them to your death toll."

He worked on breathing, trying to think of a way to get out of this mess. This was beyond bad. He could hear the sounds of the helicopter, and he didn't know whether he wanted whoever was in it to stop and try to help or to keep going so they wouldn't be murdered. _I can get out of this myself, can't I? I can!_

The sound faded and the air calmed down. "Pity," Alex whispered. "Now, where were we?"

"Let me up…and fight with…some honor," he groaned, saying the first thing that came into his mind.

"No. Oh yes, I was about to talk about Jill. Ah, your lovely partner, Jill. Still has nightmares, does she?"

His whole body hurt from being pummeled, but he managed to glare at Alex. Now he could remember all the things she had said to Jill when they worked together, things he put down to being because she didn't know what Wesker had done to her. She had said them on _purpose_.

"She's remarkably strong-willed, but I will break her. Nightmares and torture break everyone in the end. I even saved a small amount of P30 for this occasion, just in case she gets…_lonely_ for dear, dead Albert. I can do a lovely impersonation if that's what it takes. And you will be there, see her as I bring her to the brink of insanity time and time again. And then… Ah, it will be wonderful." She sounded almost beatific. "I will bring her to you, Chris. But she'll be mine now. You'll look into the eyes of a woman who trusted you, knowing you should have protected her, knowing it's your fault she fell into my hands, and she won't know you. She will obey any order I give her, and I _will_ give her an order as you behold your fallen partner. Jill will raise her gun…look into your eyes…" Alex's smile widened into a grin. "And blow her own brains out."

_Stop it!_ He was straining with every muscle now to move, and when Alex lifted one of her hands from him, his arm flew up instantly. His snapped wrist screamed in agony as he swung it to do something, anything. He did manage to hit her, he was sure of it, but then her fist struck his head, pain shot through him, and everything went dark.

* * *

_Author's note: And now for someone completely different, coming up next!_


	4. Chapter 4: Unfinished Business

Chapter 4: Unfinished Business

Timothy Jones, formerly the CEO of GeneCorp, set the newspaper down on his coffee table with a shaky laugh. It was all over, then. The article had been published for all the world to see—including his confession and everything he knew about the darkness that filled the consortium his company was a part of. Between that and the messages he had sent directly to the B.S.A.A., they would have everything they needed to launch a formal investigation into the Global Pharmaceutical Consortium and prove once and for all that they were the shadowy "Organization" that had threatened the world for so long now.

_At last, it's over_, he thought to himself, collapsing in his favorite green armchair and leaning back into the cushions. He closed his eyes. He had held those terrible secrets for too long. Now he felt able to breathe freely at last, even knowing that he would have to take responsibility for the actions he had concealed and condoned by his silence.

A knock came at the door, and he got up cautiously. He walked over to peer through the peephole, even though the only person who knew the location of the apartment he had fled to was his B.S.A.A. liaison, the one who had first come to him with this proposition. She had provided aid and intelligence, and he had used his position within the company to obtain all the data they needed. He would have never thought it possible to do what they had done—two people uncovering the secrets of an agency that prided itself on secrecy. Yet she had proved to have the skills to cover his tracks, and no one had realized his intentions until it was too late.

He saw her waiting patiently outside in the hall, golden braids dangling down from her elaborate hairstyle onto a shimmering green dress, and he grinned. She had a newspaper under one arm and a black bag slung across the other. As he flung open the door, he thought distantly that she had never looked as beautiful as she did now, in the moment of their triumph.

She leaped at him with a squeal when she saw him, pulling him into a hug even as she kicked the door shut behind her. "We did it!" she cried, smacking him on the back with the newspaper. "We did it!"

He squeezed her tightly and resisted the urge to dance around the room.

She let go of him and studied his face. "You know, I still could get you out, if you want me to. After what you've done, you shouldn't have to face a trial."

He laughed, hearing her echo the thoughts that had tormented him for nights on end until he worked them out. "I wouldn't feel right doing that. Why should I escape judgment? It wouldn't be right. The Organization has caused too much evil for any of us to slip through the cracks." His eyes drifted to a picture on the wall, and he clenched his fists. In all of their searching, he still hadn't been able to learn who had killed the redheaded man who grinned out from that frame.

Her gaze followed his. "Of course. I'm sorry about…your nephew, wasn't it?"

"Yes. And if I could slip through the cracks of justice…what if his murderer could, too?" He tried not to think about the details of the attack. Albert Jones hadn't been killed by a normal operative of the Organization. There was a name floating around on the airwaves lately, a name that chilled him to the bone… _Alex Wesker…_

"Well, if that's how you feel."

Her voice made him jump, and it was a moment or two before he remembered what they had been talking about. "It is. The only thing I worry about is that this won't be enough to shake up the Organization."

"With a man of your status being the accuser, presenting the evidence we found? They don't stand a chance." She grinned, a wild and slightly vicious grin that made him feel a lot more confident.

It was that smile that had first given him the confidence to go along with her mad scheme, even though she had introduced herself to him as though they had never met, under a different name than the one she had used before. He had thought she was dead, but seeing her alive and recognizing her had been all he needed to think that the plan might work.

He still hadn't had the nerve to bring up that night, all those years ago, when he had first seen her…

xXx

He was a new member of the company, just a young aide who followed his superiors around to help them with whatever they asked. As such, he was terrified to be following them into a party being held by Ozwell E. Spencer himself. The Umbrella Corporation was making waves in the pharmaceutical world. Of all of the companies, they seemed to have something—he wasn't sure what it was, just a sense that they were going places.

Timothy wasn't sure if he was more frightened or excited at the thought that he might see the people responsible for such a company.

The celebration was being held in a large hall out in the countryside. It was a grand building, with marble hallways that led off in many directions. Following one of these paths to see the intriguing painting at the end was what had resulted in him getting lost. After he had admired the depiction of the fall of Lucifer for a minute or two, he had turned around and realized that everyone else had continued on without him.

Retracing his steps, he had found his way back to the hall where they had entered, trying to decide which way he should go. In his distressed state, all of the doors looked the same. He didn't want to accidentally end up in the kitchen instead of the gathering.

The sound of a footstep behind him made him jump and whirl around, his heart leaping into his throat.

The young woman who had startled him stiffened as he looked at her, raising her eyebrows. "Who are you?"

He gaped at her, not knowing what to say. Her hair was black, although he thought it might have been dyed; the thought was not much of a stretch when he considered the glittering paint that stretched out from her eyes, almost giving the impression that she was wearing a sparkling mask. She was wearing a gold blouse and a short black skirt, and a hooded black cape hung down to the floor.

"My name's Timothy," he said, finally remembering that staring like a fool wasn't going to make his situation any easier. "I came here with GeneCorp, but, uh…I'm a little lost."

Her face softened as she smiled. "How convenient."

"O-oh?" he stammered.

She laughed and shook her head. "It's just that I'm lost, too! My name's Tiffany, and I came with Umbrella! I'm very new, so I was hoping to stick close by my one friend." She lowered her head and glanced up at him. "Would you walk with me until we find him?"

"Of course!" He offered her his arm, feeling a little flustered. He wondered if he should comment on the fact that the names Timothy and Tiffany went well together. She linked her arm with his, and he hesitated.

"I think they went through that door," she said, extending her free hand towards a door to their right. A rose was carved in the wood.

"Let's try it, then!" He led her purposely towards the door and opened it. Beyond was a blue-carpeted hallway with gentle lighting that made him feel calmer almost at once. As they walked past the paintings that lined the walls, he worked up the courage to say, "I've considered a career with Umbrella myself, you know."

"Have you?" She laughed. "Well, I…"

He looked over. A strange look had come over her face, as if a sudden thought had occurred to her. She met his eyes and then smoothed her expression into a smile.

"I believe that everything is not as it seems with Umbrella. There are…morals to consider."

"Oh?"

"Yes." She lowered her voice as they neared the door at the end of the hall. "Look at the scientists that have come to the party. It would be better for the world if some of them had never been born."

He swallowed hard, not liking the direction the conversation had taken, but before he could press her on it, she had reached out and twisted the doorknob. Pushing the door open, she pulled him into a chamber filled with people.

"Ah, we seem to have found the party!" she cried, giving him a smile.

He smiled back, still feeling uncomfortable. With a marble floor and arched ceiling, the room was grand and beautiful. Tables, currently unused, sat at one end. Several guests, all dressed for the occasion, had seated themselves at the chaise lounges and sofas that had been placed around the room. Others stood and talked to one another. Still others stood near the refreshment table or wandered from group to group.

Even as he tried to find someone he knew and wasn't too afraid of, Tiffany let go of him and clapped her hands together. "Aha, there he is! Thank you so much!"

Not wanting to lose the one person he didn't feel too nervous around, he trailed at a distance as she ran to join a blond man sitting on one of the lounges. The young man, who couldn't have been more than seventeen or eighteen, jumped when she sat next to him. "Who are you?" he asked, staring at her with a bewildered expression.

Timothy decided it would be better to go elsewhere after all. He didn't want to know why she had lied about knowing this man. With what she had said about Umbrella, he wasn't sure he wanted to know any more than he had to. He wondered if she was just insane, or if there was something to what she had said. He wondered why she had told him.

Lost in his thoughts, he nearly tripped over an older man in a tuxedo. "I'm sorry!" he gasped.

The man snorted. "Relax. Even I don't attack people at parties, regardless of what you may have heard." He winked.

Timothy smiled back nervously and wondered if he should ask him if he had heard anything suspicious about Umbrella. Before he could make up his mind, a young man—obviously an Umbrella scientist, as he was still wearing his lab coat—raced up to them, barely stopping in time to avoid crashing into them.

"Dr. Marcus!" he gasped, shaking his blond hair out of his face. "I've been looking all over for you! I was thinking some more about the virus, and an idea occurred to me!"

Timothy felt the blood drain from his face and tried to breathe normally. He had almost repeated what that woman had said to one of the founders of Umbrella. Swaying in place, he hoped they would put his discomposure down to nerves from speaking to a man of such importance.

James Marcus didn't seem to notice his reaction anyway. "William, this is a party! _Everyone_ stops working and has a good time at a party! Just look at Ozwell!"

Spencer himself looked like he was treating the party like a very serious mission. Between his stride and the look on his face, he appeared to be patrolling. He kept passing by the lounge where Tiffany was seated, but whatever he was thinking was impossible to guess.

"Okay, _don't_ look at Ozwell," Marcus sighed.

Timothy looked at the girl on the lounge again and felt unease prickling at him. He tried to tell himself that she kept leaning closer to her companion because she wanted to be near him. They did seem to be getting along. It had nothing to do with the fact that when she did that, it put him between her and Spencer's line of sight. He tried not to notice that the way she was shaking her hair always managed to mask her face in a wave of dark locks every time Spencer approached.

_I'm imagining things_, he told himself, even as he edged in their direction again. _What do I even think I'm going to do if she _is_ up to something sinister?_ He continued moving towards them anyway. He'd just stand nearby. He had spoken to Tiffany; it would be nice to be near a friendly face that wasn't one of his superiors.

He passed by the refreshment table and picked up a glass of punch so that he wouldn't look completely conspicuous. Then he got just close enough to them that he would be able to hear what they were saying, turned at an angle so that he could watch them from the corner of his eye, and pretended to be engaged in drinking his punch.

At first he was embarrassed to be eavesdropping on what appeared to be a very intense, private conversation. Then he realized they were talking about science. For a moment, he had the wild thought that Tiffany was a spy from a rival corporation, but after listening closely, he realized that it sounded more like she was trying to top his knowledge in every scientific topic they reached.

_Maybe she really _does_ work for Umbrella,_ he thought. _Although that still doesn't explain why she lied about knowing him._

Spencer marched by on another patrol, Tiffany's hair conveniently fell in her face, and Timothy tried to look as inconspicuous as possible.

"Hey, Ozwell!" Marcus shouted. "Come on, get a drink of something; you look like you've got a rod stuck up—William, are you _following_ me?"

"At least look at my notes, sir!"

"I don't want a drink, James, I don't—"

Timothy breathed a sigh of relief as the Umbrella president was dragged away by his co-founder, with the scientist called William chasing after them.

As the conversation he was eavesdropping on had gone quiet, he glanced over to see what they were doing. The scientist was staring off into the distance, looking a bit unsettled. Tiffany was now sitting with her back against him and her legs stretched out along the lounge.

"Conditioning fascinates me," she said softly. "I'm almost sad…that I won't get to see it happen…"

How anyone could ignore a statement that bizarre, Timothy didn't know, but it was met with silence. Tiffany smiled, a look of wild happiness in her eyes. She stretched, pushing up her skirt slightly in the process. Timothy looked away, embarrassed, and then looked back as he realized what she was doing.

Her hand closed around a pistol strapped to her thigh. The world around him seemed to narrow; though he was vaguely aware that the scientist who had been harassing Dr. Marcus was wandering in his direction, everything about the party seemed distant and far away. He couldn't breathe. He watched as she quietly, very carefully pulled the gun free and lifted it behind the scientist's back, and he opened his mouth to shout out a warning. The words died on his lips.

_Look at the scientists that have come to the party. It would be better for the world if some of them had never been born._

Her gaze met his, and her eyes narrowed. Then she lifted a finger to her lips with a smile.

The safety of her gun clicked just as William screamed, "Look out!"

Tiffany's target turned and knocked her hand just quickly enough to send her shot astray; the gun fired, lodging the bullet in the ceiling. Screams broke out throughout the room as he grabbed her wrists. Laughing, she grappled with him, firing two more shots—one that struck the floor by his feet and another that flew over his shoulder.

Someone cried out, and Timothy turned his head to see that her stray bullet had hit one of his own superiors, the security chief from GeneCorp. If Tiffany even noticed, she didn't seem to care.

_Run away,_ he urged himself. _Go help the chief. Call the cops. Anything, but don't stand here watching her!_

Before he could move, someone knocked him roughly out of the way. It was Spencer, looking like he was going to explode. His eyes were bulging and his face was red as he raced towards the two. He ripped Tiffany away from the fight, and with a prickle of horrible curiosity, Timothy wondered if she would attack the president of Umbrella himself.

Face only an inch from hers, Spencer shook the girl by her shoulders and screamed, "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

For a moment, Timothy would have sworn that Tiffany looked surprised—shocked, even. Then it faded, and the calm expression of studious contemplation didn't leave her face for a second as she was dragged out of the room.

"Well, I guess we all have days like that," James Marcus sighed from behind him, making him jump.

He smiled nervously, wondering if assassination attempts were something Umbrella scientists frequently dealt with.

He decided right then and there that GeneCorp was a fine place to work at after all.

xXx

It had been that smile, that crazy smile, that did it, even though she gave no sign that she recognized him. He had known that if anyone could help him bring down the Organization, it was the woman who had already tried to assassinate an Umbrella scientist as a teenager. If she could do that and live to fight another day, she was a valuable ally.

"Well, before you decide to take responsibility and testify to the B.S.A.A.," she said, flashing a smile at him and opening the bag she had brought, "I think a little celebration is in order." She pulled out a wine bottle and two wine glasses, laughing when he raised his eyebrows at her. She sat down on his couch, putting the glasses on the coffee table and opening the bottle.

He started to walk towards her and then froze as a thought occurred to him.

"What are you waiting for?"

"Can I use my own glass?" he asked, blushing furiously as the words left his lips. "I'm sorry, I mean, I know I can trust you, but with making an enemy of the Organization and all, I've been feeling paranoid…"

She laughed. "Suit yourself."

Feeling much better, he went to his kitchen area, grabbed a glass from the cabinet, and then joined her on the couch. She pushed her extra glass off to the side and poured him his wine. After filling her own glass, she set the bottle down.

"Let me taste it, just in case I poisoned it already," she said with a teasing smile, and took a drink. "Now, a toast?"

He lifted his glass. "To the downfall of the Organization."

She touched her glass to his, and then they drank . She poured more wine and offered a toast to the glorious future. He wasn't sure what she meant by that, but it sounded nice enough.

"How did you survive?" he asked, finally feeling brave enough.

She looked at him in surprise. "What?"

He took another sip of his wine and then set the glass down. "I thought Spencer must have had you executed, Tiffany. Kirsty. Whichever it is." There was a buzzing in his head, making it hard to think. That was odd; he had always been able to handle more wine than that.

She blinked at him and then an odd, small smile appeared on her face. "Oh. You were at the party, so many years ago." She laughed. "He wouldn't execute me for a simple mistake, although he did…ensure that I suffered."

"A mistake?" Timothy repeated, trying to go through the events at the party again. Something about that didn't sound right.

A shiver ran through her, and she whispered, "Oh, poor Ozwell… If he had done it my way, things would have been so much better."

He struggled to work through what she meant. It was starting to feel cold in the room, and he blinked at her blearily. That was some potent wine. "If you'd done it," he slurred, "then Spencer…would still be alive?"

She laughed and clapped her hands together. "Oh, I don't know about _that._ But he was an elegant, refined man, and as such, he deserved an elegant, refined death."

"Trial," he suggested, his tongue feeling thick in his mouth. If this got any worse, he was going to be sick, he could tell.

"It would certainly have tried his sanity." She laughed, and he thought distantly that the cold laugh sounded unusual on her. "You see, my dear Timothy, I _understand_ people. For example, I understand the weight you carry—the reason you feel the need to answer for your crimes. I understand how the shadows close in on you at night when you consider the atrocities that occurred at GeneCorp under your watch. I understand how your conscience must ache when you realize that you turned a blind eye when children were taken for experiments. _Children_, Timothy. Oh, how it must burn, the thought that you are a monster…"

He definitely was going to be sick. He was starting to shake, and he squeezed his eyes shut against the black spots dancing in front of his vision. He wanted to similarly close his ears against her words. She was right, so right. It made him sick.

"Did you have trouble talking to your nephew, knowing how he would condemn you for your actions? Such a _good_ man… Don't worry, it makes sense that you felt a moment of relief when you heard of his death; now you would never have to face him after your confession. He died screaming in agony, but even in _dying_, he was a good man, trying with his last breath to warn the B.S.A.A. that there was a traitor in their midst."

He opened his eyes and tried to focus on her, wondering how she knew such things. He didn't want her sympathy. He was doing all he could to atone for his crimes. He didn't need to hear about them now. She had been so supportive…if she spoke of what he had done so harshly, it had to be true. She seemed to be fading in and out.

"By the end, I understood Ozwell so well. Oh, what a treasure it would have been to return to him and take him into my care. I'm sure many threads of darkness troubled him at night. It would have been such a wonderful thing, to bring his fears into the light, to expose his tattered conscience and let him see that he was nothing but a twisted failure! Oh yes, and he would have died…very slowly, losing piece after piece of his life support, kept alive by the whim of his brightest student… dying inch by inch as his body failed him…"

Chills were sweeping through him. He could barely concentrate on what she was saying, but it sounded like she was talking about torturing an old man. _Why can't I see?_ He tried to get to his feet, thinking that fresh air would help, but his legs buckled beneath him, and he collapsed onto the couch.

"Am I losing you?" He felt her breath against his cheek and he struggled to form words, to send her for help. "Poor Timothy, you were such a fool. You never knew the truth about the Organization's new ally. You never realized that GeneCorp was cut off from the rest of the Organization, being fed false information. Remember my name… Alex Wesker. Greater than _he_ ever was!"

With that name ringing in his ears, he crashed into eternal darkness and knew no more.


	5. Chapter 5: The Tapes

Chapter 5: The Tapes

Arthur Fadran tapped his fingers nervously on the counter and glanced at the clock on the wall off to his right. Closing time was still many hours away—far too many to hope that she would not be able to make it in time. There was no doubt about it; as soon as he could, he was getting out of the city and starting a legitimate business.

From the outside, and from the inside at a glance, _Art's Oddities_ appeared to be nothing more than a novelty store, with the occasional antique and a tendency to stock old clocks. Many customers entered the cluttered front room and never knew there was anything more. However, to those in the know, Art was famous for his ability to procure items that no one else could or would—novelties of a different sort, which hid in the secret compartments of the back room.

And when his black market channels had conveyed to him certain items belonging to the late Ozwell E. Spencer, Art had seen only dollar signs. Even when he had realized that the thirteen tapes recovered by his sources were documentation of some secret project, he had only imagined selling them to the highest bidder, whether it be a government, the B.S.A.A., or one of the shadowy groups that had risen up in Umbrella's wake.

He walked over to the phone on his wall and played the saved messages, hoping against hope that there was a new one there—that he had somehow missed an urgent call ordering him away from the store. He had no such luck. The only message was the one from the cold-voiced woman; he let it play again in case he was just going crazy.

_"My name is Alex Wesker. You _will_ turn over those tapes to me."_

He had considered running, calling the police, or going to the B.S.A.A., but then it had occurred to him that it wouldn't be in the nature of someone like Alex Wesker to give him a warning. She might have left the message because she _wanted_ him to call for help or otherwise defy her. From the rumors he had heard, that sort of thing was definitely in her nature. The B.S.A.A. had named her the driving force behind the recent attacks, completely ruthless and dangerously unhinged.

After much thought, he had come to the conclusion that he had a better chance of survival by cooperating with her than by trying to escape during a bloodbath. Surely even Alex would see that he was only a harmless old man.

His thoughts were disrupted by the chime that signaled the door opening, and Art's stomach flip-flopped. _Oh no, no, no, not already,_ a desperate part of his mind wailed as a blonde woman walked in and strode purposefully toward the counter. He ran to his usual spot, hands sweating and legs trembling. _Never again. I'll leave the black market forever. I promise._

"Good afternoon," he said, almost keeping the fear from his voice. He eyed the woman, wondering what she was going to do to him.

She didn't _look_ like a bloodthirsty maniac. She was dressed like quite a normal person in blue jeans and a black sweater, but she was wearing sunglasses, and that struck him as being a bad sign. He couldn't see if there was anything strange about her eyes behind them. She hadn't threatened him yet, though, and she even smiled at him. Perhaps it wasn't Alex after all. He inwardly breathed a tentative sigh of relief. A normal customer he could deal with.

"Can I help you?"

"I understand you have some tapes concerning a secret project of Ozwell E. Spencer's?"

His heart sank. He wet his lips nervously. "Yes, I—I've had them ready ever since I got your message, Ms. Wesker."

"What?" she asked sharply, eyes widening.

"I'm sorry!" he squeaked, jumping backwards. "You, uh, you prefer Alex? Uh… You'd rather I didn't use your name at all?"

She stared at him and then looked out the window. He felt the blood drain from his face. Of course, secrecy! _Wesker_ wasn't such a common name that he should be shouting it around.

After such a long period of silence that he was sure he was about to die, she said slowly, "Alex is fine…if you must call me something."

_Cooperate. Be helpful. Nonthreatening. _"I put the tapes in the back room, by an old VCR and television set, in case you wished to check them before taking them."

"I will," she said. "Thank you."

He let her into the back room and closed the door after her, remaining behind the counter. He assumed that spying on her would put him in grave danger. He wondered if he should run now.

_No. Cooperate._

She returned after a short amount of time, carrying two of the tapes. They all had been labeled, and although he had tried to notice as little as possible so he couldn't be accused of knowing too much, he saw that she had taken the ones labeled twelve and thirteen.

"This is all I need," she said, setting them on the counter and circling around to view him from the front again. "How much do I owe you?"

Art felt his jaw drop. "You're paying me?" he asked stupidly.

"Well, yes."

"Ten dollars!" he blurted, choosing the first number that came to mind. If she wanted to pay, he wasn't going to argue.

She handed him the money, and he took it, feeling dazed. Leaning across the counter, she whispered, "Just between you and me, you need to get out of here. Wait until I'm gone. Go out the back." Then she straightened, grabbed the tapes, and left.

Art stared after her, fighting the urge to giggle hysterically. He had done it. He had survived a deal with Alex Wesker. Humming to himself, he began packing up the store to prepare for its permanent closing.

xXx

He had only filled two boxes when the door chimed to announce the arrival of a customer. He jumped up and hurried behind the counter. A blonde woman in a sea-green dress approached, but he barely looked at her as he greeted, "Good afternoon! Sorry for the state of the store; I'm going to be closing it soon, and—"

"Don't waste my time with idle chatter!" she snarled, slamming her hands on the counter. "Where are the tapes?"

"Th-the t-t-tapes?" he stammered, feeling sick. He looked up and flinched away from the flash of red light that came from golden, slit-pupiled eyes. "But… but… who are you?"

"Alex Wesker, you idiot! I even called!"

Everything that had been under control a second ago was quickly falling away from him. A strangled noise escaped him before he managed to say, "But you were just in here! I mean, not _you_, but…someone using your name! Are…are there two of you?"

"No!" She raised a fist, and he ducked, but all she did was smash a hole in the counter. "An imposter? There is someone going around daring to claim my name?"

He forced himself to look at her again. "Well, you know they say that imitation is the highest form of—" He cut himself off when she glared. _Don't panic. Try to cooperate._ "The…the imposter only took two tapes," he said. "The others are in the back room."

She stalked past him and disappeared through the door. He started to edge towards the exit and stopped. The other woman had said to leave the other way, through the door at the far end of the back room. _But what danger can be out there now that Alex is here?_

Alex returned, empty-handed, her eyes flashing red as she stared at him. "The ones I need are gone! Who was she? What did she look like?"

He tried to speak, but only an incoherent wail came out. He had never been good at describing people.

"This is a waste of time!" she snapped, grabbing his arm. "You are coming with me!"

Alex dragged him out the front door into the street, and he wondered if he should scream. Someone might notice and help. At least he might have a chance of escaping if he caused a ruckus.

He was trying to work up the nerve when the bullet blew out his brains and ended his life.


	6. Chapter 6: Factions

Chapter 6: Factions

Alex studied her appearance in the mirror for a second as she pulled her lab coat on over her black blouse and pants. It would do well to present herself as a scientist, reminding the Organization of her complicity in their crimes. Annoying as the obvious parallels were, it also would lead them to believe her conviction rather than suspect betrayal, if she  
directed the conversation correctly.

Deeming it a success, she stepped out of her office and closed the door behind her, surveying her underground lab. Walking straight from the office, one could reach any of the tables and equipment that filled the space of the main room, and finally end up at the door leading to the main facility. Her gaze flicked across the steel door that opened onto the main holding cell, the barred doors that led to the experimentation cells, and the locked door that led to the more secure areas. Of all the labs she had used at the Organization's facilities, this was the most expansive. She had already shut the others down and transferred their projects to her castle, but this one would need to remain open a while longer.

She smiled. There had been a lot of setbacks over the past few days, but in every disaster, there was a golden nugget of opportunity. Among them was the discovery of the future spy. Digging into their profile on her had provided leads that could make things very interesting indeed.

The lab was quiet now, it being just past midnight. Everyone would have long since gone home. She walked past the empty desks to one of the side doors, pressing her finger to the censor along the side. She then entered the access code, waiting patiently until the door slid open. The short corridor beyond had five locked doors, each with its own security to bypass.

She walked to the second door on the right and began the process of unlocking it, ignoring the biohazard suits along the wall. They were unnecessary. The wait did not bother her; if her security systems did not take their time in analyzing her identity, there would be too great a risk of a breach. Some things had to be kept secure even in the heart of the Organization's facilities, such as a plot aimed right at their heart.

The room was small, clean and pristine. The table had been cleared of everything, with not even a scrap of paper to indicate what had gone on here. Anyone arriving might easily suspect the lab was inactive, waiting for someone to start a project in it. The workstations, however, with their top-line filters and safety equipment, would make it clear that any work done here would be dangerous. At the very back of the room was a containment cabinet, humming slightly as it worked to keep the room safe from the biohazard, sealed tightly, and with as many security checks in place as the doors had had. Gloves were attached for when manipulation of the substance was needed.

The gloves would not be necessary.

Alex went through the security checks, quickly bypassing the alarms that tried to go off upon realizing that she intended to open the container without it being empty. It was a simple matter; she had put the security systems in place, and she knew how to disable them without damage. At last, the container was open, and she looked into the seemingly harmless liquid within.

Containing the virus in a clear liquid form was smart of them. It would make this all the easier. It was not airborne, but rather spread through contact with the skin. A drop of this liquid on a table would be disastrous for the next person to touch that table. It seeped in through the pores, slowly making its way to the bloodstream. The most insidious thing about it, however, was not the delay between infection and manifestation, but rather the fact that traces lingered on the outside of the skin, and thus human-to-human contact was a sure method for transmission.

Alex placed the palm of her right hand on the surface of the liquid. It was cool to the touch. All she needed was a coating, lest she destroy the Organization more quickly than she intended and lose the chance of capturing her enemies' precious spy in the process. She lifted her hand, holding it over the container until it was dry.

With that done, she closed everything up and re-enabled the security system, using her clean hand only. Retracing her steps through the lab, she soon had left it far behind, walking down the empty halls of the Organization's facility until she reached her destination.

xXx

She was standing in the corner of his office when he walked in that morning. She watched Melvin Grey hang up his hat and coat and noted with a trace of amusement that his hands were shaking, even within the safety of his own office. Clearly Jones's confession going public hadn't done him well at all. She suspected the rest of the Organization leaders were feeling quite the same. He was an elderly gentleman, hefty and starting to go bald, and also the CEO of GoodPharma, a company that made up for its weak name with an excellent public relations project that hid its connections to the bioweapon research of the Organization.

Once he had sat at his desk, looking more confident at last as he unlocked his briefcase and pulled out a folder, she stepped away from the wall and cleared her throat.

He jumped, slamming the folder down and pulling out a gun from inside his gray suit jacket. He pointed it at her and then lowered it, finally putting it away entirely. "Alex."

"You aren't very aware of your surroundings for a man who by this point has the B.S.A.A., most of the world governments, and a good chunk of the civilian population gunning for him."

He scowled. "Anyone looking for me would look at the company. They don't know about this lab."

She smiled and pulled up a chair that he had near his desk so that she could sit across from him. "Things aren't looking good for the Organization, Melvin."

"And whose fault is that?"

Entertainingly, he seemed almost aggressive, leaning over the desk towards her. She leaned closer, staring into his eyes. "You aren't accusing me, are you? Has our alliance come to an end?"

He fell backwards into his chair, looking annoyed. "Don't play games, Alex. You know no one dares to work against you."

He was mistaken there; it was just that the number of successful plots against her were quite slim. Escaping her wrath was the most any of them could boast, and she knew that sooner or later, her spies would track every last one of them down. That would be an enjoyable day indeed.

"It's the Organization's fault things have come to this," she sighed, thinking back over her dealings with them with amusement she kept hidden. "Throwing so many attacks at the B.S.A.A., not noticing the security breaches made by Jones, on and on until you find yourselves with almost nothing to fall back on except a handful of secrets, your own brilliant minds, and…me."

"They're going to find us," he groaned. "It doesn't matter what we do now. I've spoken to all the others around the world. Too many of them have been revealed. Forces are moving in… It's over."

Alex slammed her fist down on his desk and let her annoyance over everything that had happened recently cause her eyes to flare brightly at him. "Is this what you've come to? A pathetic old fool who whines about how there is no hope? Are your brains as addled as those of your late lackey, Rathbourne, or has the ridiculous legend of Chris Redfield and Jill Valentine gotten so large that it's squeezed away your common sense?"

He jumped to his feet, red in the face and looking like he might attack. She bared her teeth at him, cocking her head and giving him a feral stare that she had only used on him once before—their very first meeting, when he had doubted her prowess and dismissed her, and she had ripped off the head of his secretary and thrown it at him. She could almost see the memory trigger in his mind, and he blanched and sat back down.

"Fine, then." He lifted his hands into the air and shook his head. "Tell me. What is it we can do?"

She gave him a more pleasant smile. It was almost genuine; things were heading in the right direction, now. "First, you need to play to your strengths. Secrecy was always a strong point of the Organization, and the greatest secret you have left is this lab. Gather your leaders, your most skilled scientists, and the best of all your other employees, and bring them here. Kill anyone else who knows this location. Thus your enemies will kill only the chaff, leaving the Organization stronger than ever before."

He wet his lips. She could tell he was thinking about it. She hoped it wouldn't take him long, as she was starting to feel warm. It could cause a setback if he defied her analysis of the way his mind worked.

"At the same time, abandon the companies. What need have you for pharmaceutical companies? They have become a danger; let shadows hide your activities instead!"

"Wait," he interrupted, as she knew he would, "some of our most valuable scientists _work_ for those companies. They don't know anything about the Organization!"

"Bring them here, too. Once they are within these walls, they will have disappeared from the world. There are ways of making people work for you…and you know _I_ can persuade them if need be."

He shuddered, but there was an odd light in his eyes. It was a look akin to greed, the look of a man who saw something that he desired almost coming into reach. "You would…condition…our kidnapped workers?"

"Of course," she breathed, letting a soft smile appear on her face. "I will even engineer deaths to account for the disappearances of everyone you gather here."

"We could work in secrecy," he mused, tapping the side of his head as he considered it. "With the best of us together, we could truly piece everything together again…"

"The Organization would rise from the ashes…and you would be credited as the man responsible."

He looked up sharply. "I would? Not you?"

She laughed. "Our partnership is one of convenience, Melvin. My goals are much higher, and you may find that I spend considerably less time here."

Melvin quickly masked his sudden look of triumph, but she had anticipated it anyway. Any sign that she was distancing herself from the Organization would be pleasant news to all of them. Everyone she allied herself with clung to the hope of escaping with both body and mind intact.

"I'll do it!" he declared, nodding firmly.

"There's just one thing you should be aware of," she said, holding up her hand. "We've dealt the B.S.A.A. quite a blow. I wouldn't be surprised if they come after both of us, and I wouldn't put anything past them. Expect the unexpected where they're concerned." She put a note of warning into her voice. "And I really mean the unexpected."

He laughed. "What, is the B.S.A.A. going to employ bioweapons against us?"

"Would you be surprised?" she countered.

"I… Yes! I would! Their whole purpose is to fight bioterrorism!"

She smiled and tilted her head slightly. "Are you familiar with the phrase 'fight fire with fire,' Melvin?"

"You don't think…"

"I do. The Organization had better do something about them, before their 'fire' infects you all. You can only fight someone for so long before you become like them…and I've met Chris Redfield. He's… well…" She snapped her fingers loudly enough for him to jump, and then stood up, laughing. Her skin was prickling now, which meant it was time to get to the point of this meeting. "Let's just say that I am the _least_ of your worries."

He got up as well, looking calmer than he had in a long time. "I always knew we could count on you, Alex."

That was a lie. She knew for a fact that he still believed she had a role in Rathbourne's death. Unfortunately for him, he was too predictable, and she could tell that by solving his problem and suggesting that she would leave the Organization alone soon, she had gained a foothold in his trust.

"Don't worry," she said, stepping around the desk to stand closer to him, "we are more powerful than the B.S.A.A. or anyone else. You can do this. I wish you the best of luck." She held out her hand.

Melvin Grey, one of the most powerful men in the Organization and the man about to bring the perfect selection of people to exactly the right place, eyed her for a moment and then clasped her hand in a hearty handshake.

xXx

The woman was in a department store, looking over a purple dress that she had taken from the rack, when Alex found her. Alex had donned a navy blue suit for this final side trip. The lab attire wasn't nearly as appropriate, and that specific outfit had been ruined when the virus worked its way through her system, dealing what damage it could while battering itself against her Progenitor-strengthened immune system and trying to outrun the power of the immortality virus.

She waited until she was only a foot away before greeting, "Miss Sherawat."

Jessica Sherawat whirled around, brown hair flying as she turned to see who had snuck up on her. She smirked. "Wesker."

The habit of using only her surname was one of the reasons Alex was pleased to have saved her and her associate from the Organization's purge. The other reasons were that she was skilled at her job and that she had no remaining ties with the Organization. She had by this point started to build her own organization. While small, it served its purpose well enough.

"I have a job for you."

The woman sighed and looked back at the dress in her hands, examining the skirt while commenting, "I didn't know I took orders from you."

"Aren't we allies?"

She looked up. "I know what you do to your allies, Wesker."

Alex smiled. "It's better than what I do to my enemies."

"I'm not entirely sure you distinguish between the two. They're all pawns to you."

That wasn't an entirely accurate description, but it was closer than the assumptions most people made. "I am giving you a chance to remain standing even when the Organization crumbles. I could kill you right now, right here. I don't care about secrecy anymore. Think of it this way, one more day not killed by me gives you one more day to plot how to eliminate me. I'll even reward you—the payment will be your choice—if all goes as planned."

"What exactly do you want me to do?"

"Test out your little group against the B.S.A.A. Run circles around them. Keep them jumping at shadows until I am ready to claim them, one by one."

"Interesting…"

"Think about it."

Alex spun around and stalked out of the store, knowing that Jessica would weigh the choice in her mind and eventually determine that it was safer to risk an alliance than to bring her wrath down on them already. If not, well, the plan would simply have to be changed slightly. For now, it was time to launch the next stage.

Glossboro. What an odd name for a doomed town.


	7. Chapter 7: Shades of Gray

Chapter 7: Shades of Gray

What was reality? The nightmares no longer distinguished themselves from the waking world. Was it the facility? The cell? The laboratory?

Claws and teeth tore at him, as he shielded his face and tried to run, to escape the pain before it became too much. His legs froze, refusing to carry him another step. He struggled, lashing out with his arms, but that only left his face open to attack. He caught a glimpse of a fanged horror that had haunted his nights as a child, and then it was on him. He screamed as teeth dug into his eyes, and he staggered backwards.

The ground disappeared from beneath his feet and he plunged downward into darkness, blood streaming from his face. When he finally hit the ground, he could see again, though his eyes burned with pain. He looked around at a white room, strangely familiar… _No!_

Three scientists advanced towards him, no emotion in their eyes. He looked from side to side, trying to see a way to dodge them, but they had him cornered. He didn't recognize the equipment in this room, couldn't imagine what it was intended for. It was never anything good.

_Is this my punishment for accepting that job?_

Pain lanced through his head, and he fell forward, crashing through the scientists as if they were specters on his way to the floor. The Umbrella logo flashed into his mind, and he gritted his teeth. _It was a mistake._ He struggled to his knees, seeing the halls he had once walked as an employee. _I'm sorry!_ He caught a glimpse of a pair of eyes that flashed red even as he tried to get up. _No!_

His throat constricted, and he choked, trying to breathe. Everything was dark. It was too cold, making him shiver. He would freeze to death at this rate. Suddenly he was burning, feeling his skin melt as he screamed and tried to put out flames he couldn't see. On and on and on, and it would never end; she had promised him that much, and that was the one thing he believed wasn't a lie, that this would never, ever end, unless…

Unless…

It would be far easier to submit now. She would stop it. All he had to do was swear obedience to her, and she promised it would stop, promised that was all it would take…

_No!_ Too dangerous. Treachery meant punishment. Punishment worse than death. Resist. Always resist. Not worth the risk.

He saw a laboratory. The walls here were strong. This was a place built as if to defend from attacks, which meant there was no way of ever escaping. The little cell was preferable, because labs always meant something was going to happen. In a cell, you could hope you were forgotten.

Sometimes he thought he had escaped. If that was true, then he was somewhere else. Another lab? What a horrible thought, to escape only to end up in another lab. It didn't seem the horrors had ended. It could be another hallucination. The tricks were many, and several times he had thought he had escaped in the past. Sometimes his escapes had been ended viciously before he saw his cell again. Yet this time, he had the faintest memory of narrowly avoiding death…

Unless that, too, had been imagined.

It didn't matter. He would never give in. He couldn't listen to her. Too dangerous. That fear remained; he knew he had to remain true to his calling, as terrible as it was and no matter how long this suffering endured.

Sometimes, in the quiet periods between nightmares and needles, he heard voices…

"You should not have saved them!"

Sometimes he thought they were real, that some of the voices belonged to his new keepers. Yet not all of the voices were real. Dead friends and enemies alike had taunted him throughout his captivity. He never heard _her_ voice anymore, at least, but he didn't trust that she wasn't waiting in the shadows.

"I had to."

"Now Alex knows she has an enemy!"

He flinched. No, no… Punishment for betrayal, punishment worse than death… Spy on her, stay at a distance, remain among the safe ones… The alliance will provide safety for now… What will they do if they find out the truth? Desertion isn't an option. Listen to her plans… This is big, this is too much, have to report back…

"If she didn't already know _that,_ she's not nearly as smart as she claims to be."

The arguing voices faded away, and he found himself looking at a different lab. This one wasn't as clean. Work had been done here recently. It was time to leave. Walking down the halls… The shadows were always there, now; he did not want to live in this moment again, and he told himself that if only he kept it in mind that it was a memory, he could… he could…

He finished transmitting his message, glancing around once to make sure no one was there before turning back to his task. He had to clean up after it now, so that no one could trace the message in either direction. As far as the Organization would know, he had never been here. The important thing was that the message had been sent.

He drew a shuddering breath. Maybe he would be allowed to leave now. He had never expected to find himself in a position like this. He had to get out, while he still could.

"So, we have a little spy in our midst."

It was her! He turned to face her, remembering even in his terror to press the button on his transmitter. That would melt the insides. Now there was no way that even someone with Alex Wesker's resources would be able to learn what he was truly up to.

The woman stepped towards him with a cold smile. She didn't look angry. If anything, she looked amused. He darted to the side, dashing around her even though he didn't expect it would work. She didn't block him or catch him. Even as he raced out of the room, he heard her laughing behind him.

He dashed down the hall, heart pounding. All he had to do was get outside. There was a helicopter in a part of the base. He had located it early on while making plans of what to do if he was found out. He just had to stay ahead of her…

There was barely any warning, just the brief sound of footsteps before a force crashed into him from behind. Her arms caught his, pinning him against her with an iron grip that was impossible to break. He struggled anyway, as she whispered into his ear, "Don't worry, I'm not going to kill you. I'll make you mine, and then your worries will be over. You'll be overflowing with the desire to tell me who would dare send a spy here."

She released him, and he started running again, even though he knew it was pointless. He had no chance of escape. He hadn't really escaped her at all. She was letting him run so she could give chase…she was playing games with him…

The suicide capsule. He had never intended to use it, having no great love for his cause. Yet if Alex captured him… He knew what she meant to do to him. He had seen the people placed under her loyalty conditioning. If she took him, he had two options—to spend the rest of his life as a mindless servant of her cause, or to avoid that fate by ending up insane, trapped forever in the nightmares induced by her diabolical drug.

Worse, she could force him to betray his cause. He couldn't do that. That would mean punishment. Punishment worse than death. Possibly worse than what she would do to him. No.

No.

_No!_

He bit down on the capsule, feeling a dizzying wave of horror and uncertainty as he realized that he had chosen death. What would happen? What would dying feel like? What would…

It was a laboratory; restraints held him fast. Many times he had seen victims rendered helpless here, and now it was his turn. He could see a figure in a lab coat… Golden hair… Golden eyes…

A hand stroking his head. "I saved your life," Alex whispered, her tone laced with a kindness he knew she did not possess. "Everything will be all right now…"

Despair settled upon him as he realized he wasn't dead. He was now a prisoner. He was in a lab… _her_ lab. His blood turned to ice and he felt terror so overwhelming he could barely breathe. Whatever was going to happen next, he didn't want it to. He had heard the screaming too many times. When Alex was in charge, no one kept from screaming in the end. Science was somewhere in her priorities list, but many of her experiments were conducted out of pure sadism, especially when it came to conditioning…

_Can't tell her anything. Can't become loyal to her._ She was calmly walking into view now. There was a syringe in her hand. He squinted, tried to concentrate… it didn't look like her Phobetor drug. It looked like something the scientists had been working on the other day, a new virus, but that virus hadn't worked out at all. The tests subjects had ended up… _No…_ He felt sick to his stomach as she drew closer to him, and he strained desperately, trying to break free of his restraints. _No!_

_ Wherever you are… you have to stop her… _It was just a flash of loyalty borne out of his hatred for this woman, though he knew it might not matter in the end…

He was screaming, but he was looking at a different lab. It was over. It had been a memory. _A memory…_

"It's time."

He shuddered. He didn't want to know what that meant. Nothing ever ended well. He thought he was seeing the waking world for once, but it could be a trick. He moved carefully, trying to see the people in the lab. There were two of them. The ones who had been arguing, both wearing lab coats. They were real, then.

Unless it was another trick. Punishment worse than death. He couldn't give in to her, not ever. Never ever, never give in, too much pain…

"Not yet."

"The virus is ready—"

Virus? He compulsively clutched at his arms and involuntarily cried out. His arms were bruised up and down from needles. He wanted to run. He could see the door from where he was standing. But it was useless. They would catch him. Either that or it was another delusion. He lowered his head, feeling despair. Why couldn't death claim him already?

"Not yet, I said!" The second statement was quieter, not quite as angry. "You owe him that much."

_Me?_ No one owed him anything. He felt more afraid now than he had before. What was going on? Was it another trick? He could hear footsteps. Someone was approaching him.

"Justin, look at me."

His heart stopped for a moment. That was his name. That was who he had been, before his life had ended and this nightmare had begun. He dared to look up into the eyes of the scientist, needing to believe, if even for a moment, that he was safe. Safety was such a precious, fleeting thing…

"We've tried everything. What Alex did to you—"

"No!" he screamed, gripping his head with his hands. "I won't do it! I won't serve her! I won't! I can't!"

"Calm down… We are Alex's enemies."

This he hardly dared to believe. If this was real, then his escape had been real. Her enemies had somehow found and rescued him. _Were_ all _the terrible things done here only nightmares?_

"We can't save you. We can't undo the damage she did to you."

"Then kill me," he groaned, sinking to his knees. Shadows of childhood fears were intruding on his vision. He could see claws and teeth and hungry, hungry eyes. It would never end.

"We developed a virus." The scientist sounded oddly hesitant. He hadn't expected that. "It will be painful. It will take away your humanity…and destroy your mind. In the end, it _will_ kill you. But first, it'll give you a chance to strike back at Alex. We would be…using you as a weapon, to destroy her labs. It could mean that she could never do this to anyone ever again."

It took him several minutes to realize he was being offered a choice. That had never happened before. It took him much less time to make up his mind. He couldn't go on this way. If this was a trick, it could be no worse than the other things he had endured. If it was real, even the chance of destroying one of Alex's labs was worth it.

"Yes," he croaked, feeling his clutch on lucidity fading away.

"Thank you."

Reality came in and out of focus, and his worst memories flashed through his mind. So many terrible decisions… so much pain… For just a moment, he saw the lab again, felt strong hands grabbing him and pulling him away. A shudder of fear ran through him.

Somewhere behind him, the scientist was crying.

xXx

_It was easy then to tell truth from lies,  
__selling out from compromise,  
__who to love and who to hate,  
__the foolish from the wise._

_But today there is no day or night,  
__today there is no dark or light,  
__today there is no black or white…  
__Only shades of gray…_

* * *

_Author's note: First, I would like to extend credit for this story's subtitle and the matching lyrics at the end to the Monkees and their song "Shades of Gray." __Credit for the lovely rendition of Alex that I used for the cover goes to chibirin8 from deviantart. Of course, credit for Resident Evil goes to Capcom._

_And so, we have come to the end of our little "bridge" story, and the stage is set for Resident Evil 7. I hope you enjoyed it, and I know at least some of you are waiting for me to get working on RE7 already. It's going to take time. Comparing my outlines, it's going to be at least as long as RE6 was, if not longer. Not wanting to leave my first readers to feel forgotten, I am working on a long-planned Silent Hill fanfic at the moment. And of course, my original writing has to have its place, too. I do promise that I will try my hardest to get RE7 ready within a year, before I start graduate school. Now, if you've been enjoying my writing, and you're sad at the thought of having to wait so long for the next story, here's something to hold you over in the meantime—go to the site Fried Fiction and find my story "Sacreya's Legacy." And, you know, feel free to write reviews there and tell me your thoughts. ;) You guys have no idea how much your reviews touch me._

_Until next time, adieu!_


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